floating point exception
by ookawrites
Summary: Tony, after the Civil War. (Post CA:CW).
1. Debugger

**Title** : floating point exception

 **Summary** : Tony, after the Civil War. (Post CA:CW)

 **Notes** : Literally just Tony angst for five billion chapters. I warned you.

* * *

When software code is compiled, there are 3 types of errors. One of these is called a run-time error, which only occurs when you have correctly compiled code, and any linked items (files, references, etc) are connected without errors when there is an attempt to make the program run.

There are 2 types of run-time errors. One of these is a _fatal error_ , which occurs when the executed program crashes unceremoniously. An example of this would be when a variable retrieves the answer to 1/0. Mathematically, any number divided by zero has no defined value, and the program would crash even though the _code_ would be correct.

The only clue to the issue with the executed program would read: Floating point exception.

It would be up to the developer to realize what was causing the issue and fix it, if they could indeed fix it.

(Floating point exceptions are _always_ fixable since they are always caused by a variable being divided by zero. The developer simply has to figure out where their logic has failed them and make sure they fix that code.

The _real_ problem is a developer has only **one** perspective on a problem, and sometimes can't see the issue until they walk away or get another pair of eyes on their code. Not to say their solution isn't correct on the whole, just that a portion of the implementation needs finesse.)

* * *

Chapter 1: **Debugger**

When a developer needs to figure out something that has gone wrong, the use a computer program called debugger to help them discover what has gone wrong with their program. It's the first step any developer takes when trying to fix a problem.

* * *

Tony lays there in Siberia, aching from every inch of his body. His false rib cage is broken. The suit is still powered, running at close to 38%, but the list of different systems damaged, or in need of repairs requires scrolling.

"Boss," FRIDAY whispers in his ear. "I've sent a helicopter to your location."

"There was a moment," he says, dazed. His vision is blurry. "Before Ultron but after Manhattan, where I thought, maybe all this could work."

But Tony keeps forgetting his first instinct, the one that has him reaching for the scotch, the one that can sketch a fully functional design for a new gun when he lets his thoughts wander, usually isn't the right one.

"Boss," FRIDAY whispers and she sounds wrecked. Tony huffs laugh because she is an AI and _shouldn't_ sound wrecked. He couldn't even get that right.

FRIDAY is still talking in his ear, but Tony feels fuzzy, tired down to his bones, and he just drifts.

* * *

From 54985-466-8653

Tony.

* * *

Cap had had his ridiculous suit on that Tony kept trying to rework - at least make a few upgrades, but Cap always dodged the offers - and had been reading a file or maybe perusing Facebook on a StarkTablet. His shield lay on the table top, and he had an intensity as he read whatever it was. Tony had wanted to make a joke, but there was something serene about his focus, that he didn't want to break.

Natasha had been laughing with Bruce from their seats at the end of the conference table as they discussed travels in India. Hers had been highly edited, but Bruce hadn't seemed to care that day. There had been something there in both their faces, just a second of something that Tony sees now, and he mourns the loss for both of them. The steadiness and comfort they had wanted for a long time.

Hawkeye and Thor had been exchanging stories of ever increasing ridiculousness about different challenges they had been a part of. Tony definitely doesn't believe he had been a part of a bicycle gang for a cover, and Thor, hopefully, hadn't run naked through what sounded like an Amazonian goddess filled planet as a part of his of age ceremony.

He had sat to the right, windows at his back as he had worked on the scenario. JARVIS had been in his ear, softly telling him about changes he was making in the back end to the Avengers training scenario.

"Sir, I don't think it would be great to begin your first training exercise with specifically targeted attacks on the Avengers that could potentially isolate everyone."

"No, J," Tony disagrees loudly. His fingers are flying across the keyboard, pulling in the basic profiles for the Avengers one by one for the program to take into account. "We need to have a few guys programmed specifically to attack our weaknesses. Pull out the list of the weaknesses per Avenger. Target our top 3. The rest of guys can just be be assorted mindless idiots."

JARVIS faithfully updates the combatants on the second screen. Tony scans the code briefly as JARVIS continues to write out five or so targeted villains for each of them to deal with. He's coming up with some pretty fantastical names. Zzzax definitely sounds like some version of a keysmash. Tony lets it slide for the moment. He'll get a database of generic names set up later. That'll tickle Clint's funny bone. Thor would enjoy creating some villain names in his Hamlet-y way of speaking (which seriously has ruined any Shakespeare plays that he didn't already loathe on the principle of it being Shakespeare).

"Shouldn't we be trying to work on coming together as a team and not our individual weaknesses?" Cap asks.

Tony glances back to him, and he's watching Tony now. The tablet's on the table for now. Tony shrugs. "I think we need to take on some crazy things to get our attention focused on working together. And if it's something we can't overcome alone, the team will be forced to work together to win."

Cap watches him for a beat longer before nodding. "Makes sense. The profiles based on the intel from the Manhattan fight, right? We probably need to update them. It's been a good six months since then."

Grabbing Cap's tablet is easy. Tony ignores the browser window open on an article about the Beatles and opens the command prompt. It's takes a few more keystrokes than he would like, but JARVIS is paying attention like always and prepopulating the terms in the window to help him navigate down to the private server level he has set up specifically for the Avengers related items. He eases his way past the firewalls and security measures with JARVIS by-passing them before he even pulls up the next one.

He pulls up the viewable PDFs for the statistics for the team before sliding the tablet back to Cap.

Tony turns back to the program on the screen. "Okay J. Have we gotten the security parameters beyond the initial, 'oh shit don't let anyone die so Fury can't kill me' level we talked about?"

JARVIS' modulated voice sounded amused. "The file has been updated with more instances. There will be notifications if there are minor injuries, but any majors ones will end the simulations immediately."

"List the types that qualify as major injuries."

"Burns, a penetrating injury -"

" _Boss_."

"How did you know about my mission in Guadalajara last month?" Natasha queried. "That was level 7."

He turns back, leaning back in his chair. "Oh you know. This and that."

Natasha is leaning heavily on Cap's chair, watching him. Sometimes he feels like she can split him open like a watermelon and can count all his thoughts and secrets like they are seeds in his pulpy flesh. He waves at the ceiling when it gets too much.

She's a super spy. She could figure it out.

"This is good intel Tony," Cap says. Tony swings his gaze back to the man. He's serious, a small twist of the lips. "Can I review this to make sure I can prepare training sessions correctly?"

Tony nods. "JARVIS, allow Cap access to all items under level Justice League security level."

"Yes sir. Mr. Rogers, if you take a look at the tablet, you will notice an icon for the Avengers. This file will include…"

His eyes go back to the screen, ignoring the cozy scene of the rest of the team crowded around the tablet with JARVIS narrating the various footage or information in front of them.

"Boss can you respond?"

The simulation needs to be finished before the team can take up in the new training room. He needs to make sure the drones are programed to get moving as soon as they start the simulation.

There are environmental factors he hasn't finished yet, like the wind. He needs to make sure to add a randomizer to any wind generation, so Clint will have to think on his feet and can't predict the changes. Also, he can't forget to make sure the drones that have traces of Vibranium in their skeletons are focused on Thor and Cap since they can take the heavier hits.

He opens a new window and types in a query for JARVIS to check the drones he manufactured and to make sure the weapons arrays on each matches to those they are using in the simulation and to already start manufacturing on the back up ones. He has a feeling they aren't going to end up coming out of this session in one piece.

A hand grazes his shoulder, and Tony looks up. The light in the room has adjusted. Must have been an hour or so. "The rest went to take a look around the training room. You almost ready?" Cap queries.

"Yeah. We're about ready. JARVIS?" Tony looks up at the nearest blinking camera.

"Ready sir."

"Okay, let's get this show on the road then Cap," Tony says. He exits out of the windows he had been working in quickly before putting the computer in sleep mode.

Cap clears his throat. "Steve. Call me Steve."

Tony tosses him a tired grin. "Oh I think I like Cap more." Cap's face falls, and Tony redirects, "But I can call you Steve. I think. It may take me a while to get use to remembering you are a mere mortal and not someone Dad used to ramble about."

"Howard talked about me often?" Steve's tone is incredulous, but he holds out a hand to Tony. Tony, ever the gentleman, takes it and stands up.

"Oh yeah. Favorite story was the day Aunt Peg shot at your shield. Said he had never met a more firey dame or a more noble man." He leads the way out of the room and down towards the stairs. Steve trailed beside him.

"Did he and Peggy ever..." Steve pauses at the top of the stairs.

Tony turns back. "Nah. Aunt Peg would have shot him in the family jewels and then I would never have been here," Tony says with a smile makes up for what it lacks in authenticity with wattage. "He met Mom while she worked in the early days of SHIELD. Fell in love, had me, died in a crash crash."

"I'm sorry Tony," Steve murmurs and they continue with their descent.

Tony shrugs. "Long time ago. Can't miss someone too much after 20 years."

"I dunno," Steve says. "I can still feel the ones from 70 years ago."

" _Boss_."

When they enter the simulation room, the rest of the team is playing with the goodies Tony has been working on. JARVIS must have shown them the armory next door.

"Simulation beginning in two. Get suited up. JARVIS, prep."

Tony calls the suit to him merging on his body in a familiar hum. Natasha adjusts the Bites on her wrist. Clint throws a few more arrows in his quiver. Bruce is standing around in his purple pants, breathing in slowly. "Come brothers and sister in arms!" Thor crows. "Let's defeat the giant white blobs."

The projections of Central Park begin to take over the room, the fans kick up, and the group of white robots light up. Names display across their torsos. Bruce starts looking a little green.

"You built a real holodeck," Clint accuses. "A real life holodeck."

"Only a true nerd would know that Legolas," Tony returns. He takes to the air to survey the landscape. The room is really the size of 2 football fields, so they robots will be slow going as they boot up, but the smaller ones will make it across the space pretty quickly.

"What is this holodeck you speak of?" Thor booms even as a grin spreads across his face.

The robots begin moving as Natasha says, "Fight now, marathon Star Trek later."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Cap - _Steve_ \- adds. "Ready Avengers?"

"Born ready," Clint yells as he grapples around on the simulated building until he has a perch. Then a robot flies by his position and lets loose a wave of fire from it's mouth. "Really Stark? A flamethrower?"

"Prepare for every situation," Tony spouts, weaving around the giant fist of a robot.

There is roar, and the Hulk has joined the party. "HULK SMASH."

"Please do," Steve hisses as a blow hits his shield.

Widow flips around a robot weaving around trying to find a weakness. It moves with her, slower but still fingers trailing after her every shift. Cap tosses his shield which the robot bats away easily. It gives Widow the time she needs to find a gap in the armor at the neck and start tearing out cords.

Tony has to look away because the flamethrowing bird comes straight at him, beak open and fire filling the air. "Come on JARVIS, did we need this much fire?"

"Actually sir, yes. We did."

"Don't sound so smug," Tony bites back as he ducks. He throws an arm out before an arrow strikes the bot and it blows up in his face. "Little close there Katniss."

" _Flamethrower_ _robots_ Stark," comes over the communicator.

"I'm not living that one down for a while," he sighs.

There is a grunt and Cap says, "Not when they just nearly got my eyebrows."

Another yell is in the air, and Thor somehow summons lightning inside the building to take down one of the water wielding robots and an electrical flavored one. Both burst.

Hulk is ripping apart the swarm on him while Hawkeye explodes any that he can shoot.

" _Boss. The helicopter is here_."

They continue on like this for a while. Chirps are exchanged, there is a moment where Clint's perch explodes and Tony is too far away to catch him, only to have Thor to snag him right before he hits the ground, and Hulk gets a little too enthusiastic about tossing parts that he snags Natasha in the temple with a stray piece of robot armor and Steve in the gut with a robot arm. Tony probably has a head injury from how hard one robot smacked him in the head.

Eventually they beat down every last piece and JARVIS powers down the projection of the landscape. The Hulk has retreated, and Bruce is there, breathing hard, but there with a tiny smile. They are all bloody and sweaty and grinning. "Go take a shower," Steve orders and they all fall out, joking and laughing and Clint is recounting the firebird explosion with wide gestures. Something in his chest blooms at the sight.

A proximity alarm tells him about the hand Steve puts on his arm. He has the face plate pull back as he faces him. "Yes Cap?"

"Thanks for this Tony." Steve's relaxed, lips twisting upwards. "I think we really needed this."

The sincerity in the statement pulls at the low vulnerable place in him that Obie boarded up all those years ago. "That's what I'm here for. The never ending supply of fun toys," he jokes.

"It still means something," Steve says, voice low. "To me at least."

"Any time Steve," he returns, surprised to find he means it.

Steve pats his armor before walking towards the showers as well, and Tony watches him go for a beat,

then two,

then three.

" _Boss you really need to move. The helicopter is as close as I could get it."_

Tony starts into a wakefulness. "Got it Fry," he groans. He pushes himself up and the armor adjusts to help him. The noise it makes is audible, which is never a good sign for the status of the suit,

"Oh thank god boss. The autopilot is offline, and I was about to resort to calling Miss Potts and having her yell at you into moving."

"Abort any thoughts of that. Okay where is this plane?" He is wheezing, but standing so that has to count for something.

"To your left. I need you to walk out the opening right there, and I'll catch you."

"I think you are the only one who would right now," he jokes as he shuffles forward. His left arm is moving more jerkily than he wants but at least it's moving. It feels like he's barely kept all his bones in his skin.

"Always boss," her tone is warm and sincere, but Tony want to believe but can't because JARVIS used to say that, and he's gone now. "What about the shield?"

 _My father made that_.

 _He killed my mother_.

Tony catches sight of gleaming vibranium. He holds out his right arm, "Fry, turn on the cap magnet." The old joke tastes like ash in his mouth.

The gauntlet powers up, and the shield come flying at him. He reaches out with the left hand and catches it with both. His arms shakes and the rim of the shield suddenly looks like it's from above instead of in front of him.

 _Do it. Kill me like you killed them. Do it._ DO IT!

"Boss. Colonel Rhodes is asking for you. He says you have to be doing something stupid. Should I patch him in?"

"In a minute," Tony replies and trudges to the opening, shield in hand. The HUD's vision is slightly greyed out around the edges, and the battery percentage is down to 18%. "Whelp this is going to suck. Time to play catch baby girl." He just steps out.

And he's falling for a moment, for _forever_ , before the helicopter comes up, side open and he neatly falls into the open seat. It's jarring, don't get him wrong, but it at least gets him in something moving. He places the shield in the seat beside him, and presses the button on the center console to remove the suit. It melts away, and he has to take too cold breathes that nearly cause him to hyperventilate.

FRIDAY counsels him to take deep breathes, and he bends until he has his head between his legs, no matter how much his ribs creak and protest. He stays there for a while, trying to count the beats between this breath and the next one. When Tony can actually count to four beats and feel his lungs inflate until they feel tight, he sits back up.

"Patch Rhodey in, Fry. Secure as possible."

She hums and Tony closes his eyes as he tries his best to meld into the chair. "Tones?" Rhodey sounds a little high on pain medication.

Tony smiles to himself. "Hey babe," he retorts.

"What stupid shit have you gotten into now?"

"Some of the stupidests of shit piles," he replies. "I found Cap and his friend. We found the guy behind the bombings in Vienna. We split up and went our separate ways and I am coming home."

Rhodey grunts and there is a rustle of sheets. "What am I missing here?"

"Underwater prison that Ross has the rest of Team Cap in."

"Jesus, you have to be kidding me. That's against the Accords. They should be in a cell in the Terrorism Centre in Vienna awaiting trial."

Tony grunts as he sits up. "I think Ross swooped in while we were on our way out and grabbed them before the UN knew about it. I need to put some feelers out to figure out what exactly went down there."

There is a quiet beep, FRIDAY taking note and already tracking down some leads. "What else Tony? I can hear your moans from here."

He opens his eyes against the window, the blank white stares back at him. "I lost it a little."

"Tell me," Rhodey hums.

Tony breathes in for a second and counts - _one, two, three, four_ \- before letting it all out in a rush. "There was a video of December 16th 1991."

"What," Rhodey pauses. "What are you ta-wait. Your parents?"

The window is cold, and it helps with the headache he has pounding between his ears. It sounds like a heartbeat. "Apparently Dad pissed off Hydra, and they sent the Winter Soldier after him."

The silence between them is heavy. Tony has to swallow back the lump in his throat. "Dad wasn't drunk. Their tires was shot out. They crashed. He pulled dad out of the car and killed him and then went to mom's side and crushed her throat. Dad wasn't drunk."

There feels like a million shattered pieces inside of him, illusions, ideas, and so much anger that broke and what's left is stuffed inside of him. Moving with him and pressing against vital organs and just aches.

"Tony, Tones. Stay with me buddy."

"He knew. _Fuck_ Nat probably knew too." Tony spits out.

Rhodey is calm, a lighthouse in a churning storm. Always has been and always will be. "Who knew what?"

"Cap. About Mom and Dad."

There is a low sound on the other end. "Fuck him. Who cares about him. What matters is you're okay. You're still here. You coming home right?"

"Yeah, right now."

"We'll deal with everything later then. Want me to tell you about the terrible food they are trying to poison me with here?"

The window is cold, Tony aches inside and out, and all he can see when he closes the eyelid of that grainy footage. But he smiles. "Yeah. Tell me Rhodey."

He spends the rest of the flight back listening to Rhodey tell him about his hospital adventures.

* * *

To: _itsybitsyspiderman_

I don't just lie to pretty aunts in Queens. Your SI Internship starts on Monday. Wear khaki's for orientation, but after you get out of that, wear some ironic t-shirts and jeans. You'll fit right in with the nerd squad.

You're in the biomedical group. Minchen is an idiot but he has decent ideas. Perez actually knows how to do good work, so he's your mentor.

Don't get caught kid.

-you know who

* * *

Team Cap busts out of the RAFT a month after Siberia while Tony is holding a press conference about the future of the Sokvoia Accords. Thaddeus Ross is at his side for the first twenty minutes before he stalks out. Tony grins and says, "He is already on the case, tracking down every vigilante who hasn't signed yet" to the twittering crowd. The door slams behind the secretary of state.

"As I was saying," he continues. "The Avengers will be taking a step back as the UN continues to evaluate the current rules and regulations around the Accords after the incident in Germany and the whole Winter Soldier," he waves his hand, "situation."

"The Joint Counter Terrorism Centre will be splitting out with a new division called S.W.O.R.D. It has been deemed by the UN that current Deputy Task Force Commander Everett Ross will be taking charge of this new group. They will be the man power behind the additional investigation into all the enhanced individuals during and after the Vienna bombings." He nods to the shorter man who slid into Ross' place beside him moments earlier. "In addition, Commander Ross and his team will be the enforcement behind any decisions the UN makes at this time."

More than a few reporters' attention gets pulled to their buzzing phones, and Tony claps his hands together, jolting a few in the front row. "Okay what questions do you have for me today?"

Hands promptly appear in the air, and Tony leans around glancing at the faces in the crowd. His lips press together briefly, before pointing, "You. Jennifer is that you? Still with CNN?"

A tall, dark skinned beauty stands briefly, "Yes, actually. What do you have to say about the rumors that you brought in more vigilantes who have not signed the Accords to Germany?"

Tony grips the podium tightly, fingers flexing against the wood, but the strain is hidden underneath his suit. "You know to never to listen to rumors," he retorts.

"I know an evasion when I hear one Mr. Stark," she counters flatly. Tony grins widely at that.

"Good to know you know your craft Jenny," he replies. "Okay I know I am going to get this question about five hundred different ways, so let me answer this now this one time. Don't try to ask it again. I will skip you, even you Christine of my heart." The Vanity Fair reporter glowers at him in the middle of the crowd.

"Yes, I brought in a few extra guns to a fight. At the time, only 2 participants had not signed the accords, Black Panther and Spiderman. His Majesty T'Challa of Wakanda shipped a signed copy to the UN after the Germany incident, so we have Black Panther covered now. We are working with Spiderman on his concerns around giving his information in a manner that can be used against him in the future. This is one of the current topics the UN is looking into with the current revisions of the Sokovia Accords." His smile never wavers.

The crowd of journalists look at him, ready and awaiting his next call. Tony leans and looks around at the crowd, looking to something. "Next….You look familiar Daily Bugle." He wiggles his fingers at the weary journalist.

The man straightens. His suit is generic and a little worn around the edges. Tony has to keep his thoughts straight because his brown hair is windblown and the whole picture looks too familiar. "Ben Ulrich, Mr. Stark, Daily Bugle. Spiderman has been spotted wearing a new uniform that has some technological upgrades. It looks, frankly, like something out of your wheelhouse."

"Is there a question in there?" Tony asks idly. His gaze swings around the room. "I know you have one straight from Jameson's mouth, because let's be honest, that's where this is coming from. Triple J over there. I'll make this short. Yes, I am helping Spidey because he needed an upgrade if he was going to stand with me, because seriously, you can't stand with me and not look cool. It's a requirement."

The murmurs grow louder at that, and Tony can see more than a few smirks in the crowd. Ulrich has a wince across his face, so Tony's on the mark there. "So really, Ben Ulrich of the Daily Bugle, what are you dying to ask me?"

"Are you helping other vigilantes who have not signed the Accords like Spiderman? Maybe Captain America?"

"Any one who has not signed the Accords is, at this point in time, in direct conflict with the Accords, as long as they are in a country aligned with the United Nations, and all citizens are charged with trying to help bring those persons to justice. No one more so than me, considering I was one of the first Avengers to sign. Did you know it was part of the Accords is that you are beholden to UN committee to try and apprehend anyone in a UN country?" He paused and took in his audience, "Oh, I see some confused faces. It's somewhere on page 497 on that novel. But as long as the persons are on a negotiating list with the UN, they're safe. Like Spiderman."

Reaching out, he takes the handy water bottle in hand and takes a sip before continuing. "At this time, I have had no contact with any Avenger that is not Colonel Rhodes or the being named Vision. Also lay off Spidey. He's a decent guy who just wants to help."

Ulrich nods before retaking his seat.

"Ed from LA something, you're up."

"Edward Morris, LA Times. What is Mr. Banner's thoughts on the split in the Avengers?"

Tony straightens. "Doctor Banner is working on some research at this moment, and he cannot be reached for comment."

The dark headed man isn't satisfied. "Isn't it dangerous to have misplaced the Hulk? Should the public be panicking?"

"No," Tony's tone is tense. " _Dr_. _Banner_ is doing research for SI at this time and has been communicating his location through his reports back to his research team. Okay, who is our next contestant?"

The next reporter is a mousy brunette from the New York Times. "Mr. Stark, what do you think should be the next steps taken in regard to the W-" she begins before Everheart is standing and asking, "Did you know anything about the break out of the Falcon, Scarlet Witch, Hawkeye and Ant Man from the RAFT facility where they were being held under the orders of the Secretary of State?"

His emotions flash before fading away. He doesn't even pause in his performance.

"Oh so that's where Thaddy disappeared so quickly to. Also shame on you for breaking up this flow we had going. Well, I think it's safe to say I didn't know since you just informed me, but I would not condone any attack on a nation supporting the Accords. But if they were simply being held at the RAFT awaiting transport, I'm surprised the UN was not willing to share the information with the Avengers at this point in time."

He takes in the shell shocked faces before adding on, "Oh look, there is my cue card to say time's up. It's been a pleasure, and any additional questions can go to my PA in the corner over there. Wave at the hungry mob of reporters Jonah. Don't break the poor guy people, he's new, and I would like him to last more than a few weeks."

Tony waves over the clammering press and heads out the same side exit Ross had taken earlier. The younger Ross is close on his heels. "You need to support the Accords publicly Stark," he tosses the second the doors close behind him.

"Did you not see that show back there? I was your dog and pony in that show. You guys need to step up your media presence. Do you need training? I know some lovely PR people who would love to get their claws into you and your organization."

He continues on his way. There is a lovely Secretary of State at the end of the hall, red in the face. "Did you tell Steve Rogers where his friends were being held?"

"No General. I did not tell Captain America about your under the sea prison. How would that conversation even go? You had me monitored while I was there, after I left, and I wouldn't be surprised if you had all of the NSA manpower pointed at anything with my name on it."

"Stark!" Ross bellows. "You do not have any power in this situation, I can throw you in a hole as deep and as dark as I want, and I will have the backing of the entire UN. Don't cross me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tony calls as his suit constructs itself around him. "Not at all."

He takes off our the nearest window. He has FRIDAY send a payment to the building's owner before he pushes a bit harder, a bit faster, so all he can think about is making sure he doesn't crash and not his former teammates faces in the RAFT.

* * *

From: _itsybitsyspiderman_

Mr. Stark,

Thank you. I mean you didn't have to and don't think I'm not grateful because this is insane. I never thought I could get an internship with SI, especially while I was in high school. Definitely when I was 15.

Dr. Perez is awesome! He has this project he is working on to be able to create a robotic prosthetics that works with a microchip to allow people to walk again after losing a limb.

But yeah. Thanks for this. This is everything I have ever wanted to do.

I got a the work cell you sent me. If you ever need anything I'll be there.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

* * *

There are tears slipping down his younger version's boyish cheeks, silent sobs racking his body. Tony has to take a moment to realize where he is, when he is. He knows the second he sees a vivid Ana Jarvis running around a corner, bright red hair, lime green dress circling around her, and how her expression just drops when she sees the younger version of him, probably all of 6 years old, in the corner of the room.

"Tony? Dear what is wrong?" She crosses the room in a heartbeat and folds herself beside him against the window seat. Shadows play across her face, making her cheeks look gaunt, and older than she is in this moment.

Something seizes in him at the image.

Young Tony leans towards her warm, her comfortable presence. "Dad said he was disappointed I hadn't finished testing and documenting the changes I made to the mechanical model of the plane. The engine just stopped working mid-flight, and I thought I had figured out that issue, but it came crashing down in the foyer and just broke apart and I have to start again. I didn't want to disappoint him again Ana. Not again."

"Oh Tony", Ana whispers, as she brushes his tears away. "You will try your hardest to prove everyone wrong, won't you?"

Tony doesn't want to disappoint her, so he whispers yes. He can't understand why her eyes start welling up too. "I'll be the best, so I can prove everyone wrong."

She laughed her delighted laugh. The one she gives Jarvis when he picks her up and spins her around. "Oh _lelkem_ , you won't be proving everyone wrong." She wipes her eyes quickly before she places both hands his cheeks so he looks her straight in the eye. "You'll be proving me right."

Tony doesn't. He just. He drops the parts in his hands, and hugs her tight and close. Breathes in and clutches her. She holds on just as tight.

"Fry shut down the simulation," Tony breathes in and it rattles around in his chest.

"Yes boss."

The room is dark without the simulation up and running. Friday turns on the lights as he moves through the room. He's a ghost workshop. The little light from the moon illuminates the place on the table where the shield lays, half under some rag that Tony isn't sure he threw or if one of the slumbering robots tossed.

The claw marks look fresh and jagged down the metal. They aren't deep, only surface scratches. It feels like he floats there, because Tony can't remember moving. Can't remember putting down the long emptied glass (that's been refilled maybe one too many times). He slides his fingers down the marks. Down the indents on the metal on the side from where is hit him.

He feels the ache down in his chest. Grainy footage fills his mind. Blood rushing down the side of his face, in his mouth. He killed my mother, rings in his ears.

"I don't know if you could be more disappointed in me."

Tony's not sure who he is talking to, but whoever it is, they probably are.

He lurches away from the table, grabs his glass and goes back to the bottle of whiskey. "FRIDAY, show me Mark 15 of the exoskeleton." He says as he pours himself another drink.

"Yes Boss," she replies.

The room lightens, a hologram bursts to life and Tony takes a sip before he starts. "Okay let's break this thing down again Fry. Walk me through it."

* * *

To _spiderboy_

smart has nothing to do with age and everything to do with ability

To _spiderboy_

also I have the feeling you could make me millions with some crazy super sticky glue invention

To _spiderboy_

i need the money to feed my alcoholism

To _Mr Stark_

I created a nerf dart grenade today, so maybe you can patent that?

To _spiderboy_

you had a nerf gun fight without me?! For shame.

To _Mr Stark_

Some intern said the hulk was a mindless idiot and he wouldn't listen to anyone say anything otherwise

To _spiderboy_

good job

To _spiderboy_

the paintball grenades you will find on your desk tomorrow are not from me. the glitter is totally from me.

To _spiderboy_

tar and feather him kid

* * *

From 54985-466-8653

Tony. Are you there?

* * *

"You look worn down Tony," Rhodes says from his place at the beam when Tony comes into the complex, jacket already lost somewhere. Vision is standing near enough in case he needs to help Rhodey, but after a few iterations on the exoskeleton, he's steadier on his feet.

Tony's smile is a fleeting twist of the lips at the sight of Rhodey standing, Rhodey moving. "Only you would know Rhodey."

He grabs a discarded tablet and sits on the conveniently placed couch near the new workout room. With a few swipes, the device is projecting a mini version of the exoskeleton Rhodey is currently wearing. After placing the tablet on the ground so he can manipulate image he duplicates the prototype design with a flick of his wrist before sliding the original away. "FRIDAY," he calls. "Save any changes done here as the Mark 17."

"Yes boss," she affirms.

Tony watches Rhodey out of the corner of his eye, see the struggles Rhodey has as he adjusts the level of support the skeleton gives him. He expands out the design, focusing on moving the support module higher up and easier to grip but still sleek enough to not look clunky. He adjusts some of the lines, thins the metal used. Maybe there is light weight solution that doesn't look as alien as the current version.

Maybe there is a way he can simplify it down to a way where it can slip under the clothes for users. Looking like an accessory instead of a crucial piece to the lives of some people.

Rhodey still looks exhausted using it, and his steps get clunkier. There has to be a way to auto adjust the support. But that requires motors similar to his boots. Or is this even something in the legs? Maybe this is something with the chip communicating with the exoskeleton.

Tony sketches a note to take a look at the data coming back from the chip and if there is anything he and Fry missed in the initial account for output. Or if there is any data he's not taking into account from the chip itself. He knows he forgot about the pain inputs and monitoring that. He needs to keep an eye to make sure Rhodey isn't pushing himself too hard. Users family members, doctors and therapists would probably like that information as well, so he should definitely get that method in and stored...somewhere. Privacy settings too. Don't want to make the any one feel more helpless. He knows that feeling too well.

The couch dips, and Rhodey hisses. "Never thought learning to walk would suck this much."

"It's why we forget it the first time. Too traumatic," Tony counters softly.

He adds an additional note beneath that to check on the security protocols for the chip and see what, if any, attempted hacks have been made today. Leaning back, he sets the design to spin as he looks at it, checking for immediate failures. He notes a few points to test, knows Rhodey is quietly watching him, Vision is still drifting in near vicinity, but idle in his perusing of the situation.

"FRIDAY, test feasibility, and make any necessary changes to the design before you start manufacturing. Add reminders about the notes for me. Also, take a look at the data the chip is getting. I think we're missing something, just don't know what," he calls.

The hologram flickers for a moment as she takes actively control of it, and Tony makes a note to fix that issue. Can't have a new tablet doing something like that before it hits the production cycle. "Got it. Standard notification procedures?" she queries.

"Yeah. Thanks girl," he replies, picking up the tablet and already making the motions to turn it off. He tosses it to the non Rhodey occupied side of the couch and turns. "Any issues honey bear?"

Rhodey's eyes crinkle a little bit. "Not any to report, like there weren't any issues with the last versions, all sixteen of them apparently."

Tony falls back against the couch, "You definitely had an issue with round one. They jerked like no one's business. I distinctly remember bitching."

"That was you Tony. Not me."

"Oh," Tony mutters, "Maybe that was me. Sounds like me anyway."

He stares up at the ceiling and wonders how much longer he has to be down here. Pretending before he heads down and works on Mark 17, the new tablet specs that RD sent up that are clearly shit based on the prototype he was using, and there is some paperwork Pepper had expedited over, a team of lawyers he has a conference all with in a few hours to check on the Accords strategy, and maybe some tinkering on a few ideas Peter has sent him an email about.

"That's fast work for a month since I got out of recovery Tony," Rhodey muses after a moment.

Tony shrugs. "I had some in the pipeline in case."

Rhodey sits up, a wince on his face. He's definitely in pain, and probably refusing to take his pain meds. Tony knows not to fight him on that any more. "When did you start these? After Manhattan?"

Maybe he could ask DUMMY to bring up a bottle of whiskey, some ice and glass. But he would probably accidentally add some motor oil it and no one needs to be back in the hospital this week. Vision can't take it. "About the time you went to basic," he answers.

There is a sharp intake from beside him. " _Tony_."

"I come up with the best solutions when I am close to the situation," he replies. "That's what Obie always said."

"Tony, you weren't imaging multiple scenarios where I didn't come back whole, were you?" Rhodey's voice...all Tony can remember is the time when he called Rhodey after the whole Obie situation was over. The tone is the same as when Tony had said, Obie was the one who had me kidnapped and then I killed him and he had said, Tony, it's me. It's okay. You had to. If it's ever you versus anyone, I need you to make it out, okay?

"138 missions is a lot of time to think," Tony mused.

A hand curls around his shoulders, and they stay there for a while both staring into nothing. Vision drifts in and stands in the doorway, keeping watch even though there is no chance of interruptions in the silent building.

* * *

From: _avengerslegalteam_

CC: _avengersprteam_

We have our strategy for getting project aftermath ready. Shall we proceed?

To: _avengerslegalteam_ ; _avengersprteam_

Yes.

* * *

"Jarvis," he asks, so young and fragile. He doesn't know what his life is going to be like, how he is going to disappoint everyone. How he is going to disappoint himself.

"Yes Master Anthony?" Oh Jarvis. He had forgotten how Jarvis looked. Impossibly tall, kind eyes, grey and wrinkled, but like comfort, like home.

Tiny him adjusts his grip on the screwdriver in his hands and looks down to the circuit board in his hand. "What are the parameters necessary to make someone a friend?"

He never looked the first time, but somehow he had to have tracked it or BARF is filling in the gaps - it's probably filling in the gaps, but Jarvis always cared more than any Stark deserved. But Jarvis puts down the dish he was cleaning, and bends down. "There are no parameters," Jarvis says. "You simply be yourself."

"How do you maintain a friendship?" he asks. "Is there daily maintenance and certain standards to make sure everything is working as it should."

Something flitters across Jarvis' face. "I do not believe you like it when I say, you simply be yourself, " he muses, taking note when Tony nods. "Let's take an example to explain. With Miss Carter, I lend a hand when she asks. I ask about her day and listen when she wants to speak. But there are moments where I read the newspaper, and she peruses a casefile at the breakfast table. Does the fact that we aren't speaking mean we aren't friends?"

Young Tony tilts his head, "Friendship seems to be something that either is or isn't. There is no passive state of friendship."

"Correct Master Tony," Jarvis beams. "We are still friends occupying the same space or not. She is a person I care about greatly even when she isn't present in the moment."

"Oh," Tiny Tony hums, turning the thought over in his head. "That makes sense."

"Have you made a friend?" Jarvis asks, hopeful. Older Tony, current Tony, feels his chest tighten at the expression. Jarvis had always has such a hopeful optimism when it came to Tony's future and what he would become one day. He wonders if Jarvis still has one, watching from up there.

He wonders if he has broken Jarvis' heart again.

"No," Tony responds, "But I wanted to know what to expect when it did happen. I wanted to make sure I was prepared for the challenge."

"Being a friend isn't a challenge," Jarvis says. "You simply are."

Tony shrugs, "Still. I want to make sure I can fulfill all the requirements."

Jarvis straightens, a smile on his lips. "You will perform admirably as always Master Anthony. Now, you should go finish working on your project while I finish the dishes. We wouldn't want Mrs. Jarvis to find me behind on my chores."

Tony beams back and turns back to the table where he was fiddling with what would eventually be a voice recording device.

There is a pause, and older Tony influences the scene with the barely a whisper of a thought. "Jarvis," he looks back up. "You're my friend, right?"

Jarvis looks back, and Tony can see a glimpse of the older Jarvis in his smile, the one who survived Howard and Maria and even Ana. "We're more than that Master Anthony."

"FRIDAY end the simulation." The old mansion's dark outside the window as he sits down at that tiny table in a dated, yet tasteful kitchen.

There are few things Tony remembers about his mother these days, but he remembers how she and Ana used to sit around this table, whiskey glasses in hand and bursting into peals of laughter every while or so. Sometimes Aunt Peg was there, bright lips curled as she mentioned some story about Jarvis or Howard. Mostly Howard.

Jarvis would putter around, nervously watching the women in his life bond. Howard would have a cigarette in his mouth, a drink in hand and look up every once in awhile from his sketches strewn across the coffee table, his eyes soft and fond.

Tony sat in his mother's lap, a glass of milk to match theirs in the beginning. He always thought these were the best nights. The ones where all his family was in one room.

He looks around the empty living room and knows he won't be able to find that again.

* * *

From _bruceybear_

Tony what the hell happened

To _bruceybear_

we needed rules so we could color inside the line instead of outside of it. we needed to figure this shit out so it wouldn't be enforced on us and I tried

From _bruceybear_

Tony how much have you had to drink tonight

To _bruceybear_

Nothing

From _bruceybear_

Tony are you okay?

To _bruceybear_

no

From _bruceybear_

I'm coming

To bruceybear

no no no no don't do that for me. don't come back for me.

From _bruceybear_

I'll be there in 3 days. Tower?

To _bruceybear_

yeah.

thanks.

* * *

From 54985-466-8653

Tony. I'm sorry.


	2. Automated test cases

**Title** : floating point exception

 **Summary** : Tony, after the Civil War (Post CA:CW)

 **Notes** : Sorry about the lack of posting.

* * *

 **Chapter 2** : Automated test cases

When a developer finished a piece of code, they should completed automated testing that can be run against their application to make sure it is working correctly or if there has been another change the way this piece is working.

A test failing is the earliest warning that something is wrong.

* * *

From: _avengerslegateam_

CC: _avengersprteam_

We completed Phase 1. Security has dealt with the logistics of the situation, but it has been achieved.

PR team is beginning on Phase 2 as we speak.

* * *

Rhodey sweating through his first work out of the day greets Tony when he slinks into the compound. He's faithfully upgraded to the latest exoskeleton that had been left on his dresser, just like he does every Monday of the week these days. They have a silence communication happening here between them. JARVIS watches and takes notes, Tony turns those notes into changes, they fabricate a new exoskeleton to help Rhodey walk.

Tony has to take a deep breath in, remembering that Rhodey can't walk with out the exoskeleton. He needs to sit here. Needs to watch. JARVIS' notes are getting sparse, and Tony needs to see the issues up close and personal, so he can fix it. Rhodey deserves that, at the least.

(He deserves more. Deserves better than his best friend who took him into a fight and got him paralyzed, but Tony has never been able to get him to see it before, so he doesn't even try now.

Tony's selfish, and he can't lose another person.)

He pulls up a chair and straddles it, watching Rhodey as he makes his way through the usual exercises. Rhodey's legs buckle fewer times. The familiar soft whine of the calibrating motors isn't audible in this version.

Tony's fingers begin to beat on the top of the chair. They've only tested with regular movement, but his mind races when he contemplates how would the prosthetic work under more intense situations. Like sprinting or a quick change of direction? He would have to check the calibrations they currently have on the motors. Maybe upgrade the chips. See if he can build some predictive programming into the chips. Or make the exoskeleton less manual and more AI related.

He bites his lip at the thought of adding more automation to the exoskeleton. But would people even want that? For their legs? Tony nods to himself silently, because he would, he does in the suit. He just needs to run the numbers. Check with Legal and see where they can reach out to get some focus groups.

Or he could just ask Rhodey, who keeps talking about the support group he goes to. He takes the wheelchair. Says he needs to talk it out with someone who knows the emotions about it. Less focus on fixing the problem. Once, Rhodey could have asked Sam, but Tony tries not to think about that.

(Because once he could have turned to someone else and admitted he didn't know how to fix this. He could have turned to Fury and listened to the rant about fixing problems that didn't need fixing, Pepper's fond speeches about, Tony he just needs someone outside of all this, or St-)

He decides that if people don't like there being programming that leans pretty closely to AI level stuff, there has been that idea around the robot butlers that the A&D kids keep pitching around. It's on the idea wall in New York somewhere. Tony can get access to the designs on the server.

He'll need to tell FRIDAY. He needs schematics, a couple of context diagrams, white papers - and there is sudden movement from Rhodey's direction.

Tony tenses, ready to shove the chair down to get across the room to the bars when his gaze snaps upwards to catch a glimpse of Rhodey waving his hand in his face. There is a wicked grin across his lips as Rhodey lets go of the bars. Tony, half sitting half standing, lands in the chair with an audible thump. Rhodey's steps are smooth as he moves. There is no hesitation during his move from the bars to the couch beside Tony's borrowed chair.

Tony watches, stolen heart in his throat, the whole way. It only settles when Rhodey sinks into the couch, proud grin across his face.

"You do good work Mr. Stank."

Tony's mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. "How…" He can't get any more past the lump in his throat.

"Last night," Rhodey shrugs as he reaches for the stack of water bottles on the coffee table. "Vision kept a close eye on me while I tried. Then he deemed me good enough to move without the cane or the wheelchair."

Tony scans the room and doesn't see either of them nearby. _Oh_. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Rhodey finishes taking a swig of water. His face is covered with sweat, but not as much as usual. Tony's fingers itch to grab the tablet and see the data from the exoskeleton. They can't be done. Not yet. Not if Rhodey is still sweating from the effort of simply walking across a room. "I wanted to show you when it was finished and not a work in progress." He grins. "Just like you and your toys."

There is a suit of armor in the lab, grey and gunmetal and big. It's got better firepower, turns on a goddamn dime, and can only be used by James Rhodes. It's almost done, but Tony's not sharing it until Rhodey asks. Until he wants it. He doesn't want to overstep. He's not sure if this is the end of War Machine or if his friend will hand it over to someone else.

He gets it. Gets it so much that his heart is fluttering out of control. He can't open his mouth to say it though. So he just nods, silent as he watches.

Rhodey rolls his shoulders before continuing, "You gotta stop punishing Vision for this you know. It's no one's fault."

Tony picks up the tablet, fingers smudging the screen as he types. "I have a lot of things to do Rhodey. Just because I don't spend five billion hours in the same room as my baby android, doesn't mean I blame him."

"Not your fault either Tones."

Tony snorts as FRIDAY pulls the data up and sketches it into a line graph to show pain levels, movement speed, and exoskeleton adjustments made prior and post movement. She quietly adds historical data in another tab. "Thanks for that sweet pea. I'm good." He circles the top 3 pain spikes, and FRIDAY displays the video clips for each for him in a half screen.

Rhodey takes longer strides in the video and the leg adjusts fine, however the movement causes a wince. Tony restarts and zooms in. The leg jerks into place in the last frame, not easing like it's supposed to.

"Got it boss," FRIDAY voices from the tablet speakers, and Tony knows there is another prototype being tested in a virtual diagnostic downstairs right now.

"What about the - " Tony starts.

"Even the times the exoskeleton's response time was outside 1 second worst case. Adjustments needs to be made for switching direction and compensation for quick movements."

Tony huffs. "You're getting too good at reading my mind Fry."

"Never boss."

He tosses the tablet on the couch. Rhodey is leaning forward, empty bottle absently moving. His eyes are dark, gaze heavy. "What?" Tony says, a sharp edge in his tone. He swallows back anything else, because Rhodey doesn't deserve this. He won't hurt him any more than he already has.

"So you're either sleeping around, or you sleep somewhere else," Rhodey observes.

Tony looks out the window at the second half of the statement. He can't lie to Rhodey. Can't do it.

"Or maybe not sleeping at all," Rhodey adds, wonder in his voice. "Buddy, you have to get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Tony waves the commend away as he stands. "Now what about you? What are you feeling like for breakfast?"

Rhodey eyes him for a moment before reaching out. Tony grips his hand and hauls Rhodey up. "I'm cooking this time though. You burn water."

"My coffee tastes just fine."

"It's Starbucks level Tony. _Starbucks_."

Tony fakes an overly dramatic swoon, hand to the forehead and all. "It's like you are trying to be unnecessarily cruel," he accuses after he straightens.

Rhodey slings a hand over his shoulder. "I got priority one on the give Tony shit list for being the best. And I gotta give anyone who is lower on that list a beat down."

Tony glances over at Rhodey, and their eyes meet. Rhodey quirks his lips. Tony leans his head on Rhodey's shoulder for a beat, then two, then three before pulling away. "Such an asshole."

Rhodey waves as he continues into the kitchen. "Your favorite asshole."

He stands there and watches as Rhodey disappears into the next room. Something in him crumbles and rebuilds in the moments it takes to catch his breath. Something ever so small but vital. He stands there, rumpled suit, aching feet, and wet face until Rhodey yells, "You coming Tony? I need an audience for all this awesome."

Tony goes. "Won't be as good as if we went to visit Julian and got some chiliaquiles. Breakfast nachos. Think of that deliciousness Rhodey!"

* * *

From _Pepper_

How is Rhodey doing? Really doing?

From _Tony_

Good. Better. He is walking on his own.

From _Tony_

Making breakfast right now.

From _Pepper_

He is going to kill you for sending me that video of him singing while making eggs.

From _Tony_

It was fry

From _Tony_

I don't control my robots

From _Pepper_

He's still going to blame you. Loudly.

From _Tony_

As long as he is loud

From _Tony_

You should get back to your board meeting. Thanks for checking in. I'll let Rhodey know.

* * *

A text comes in while Tony is cleaning up.

(Vision had drifted into the living room while Tony and Rhodey had ate breakfast. He had perched on one of the chairs and watched them for a moment. Clad in slacks, a button down and a vest, he cuts an impressive figure. But Tony sees someone else in his posture, his mannerism, and turns his back to those with a wild grin.

Rhodes's face doesn't give, but he parries with Tony like usual. There is a shift in the other room, and, later, Tony steals a glance after his heart settles to see Vision staring out at the silent training fields.)

Rhodey sees the text from his perch at the bar, coffee mug in hand. "It's Nat," he says, voice even.

Tony finishes the dishes before picking up the phone. He stares at the words lighting up the screen for a while before replying. The silence in the room is only broken by Rhodey taking long pulls of his coffee. He responds, fingers flying before going back to the dishes. He puts them all up, even when he hears the phone buzz again.

The silence in the room fills him to the point of bursting, too much silence, not enough thoughts in his head. The clink of the dishes helps. Moving helps more. Focusing one by one as the dishes get picked up and put away.

When his hands are empty and so is the stack, Tony picks up the phone again. He reads the text and replies. It buzzes back instantly. He responds a few more times, the vibrating sound ringing in his ears, louder with every texts. Then he stops and powers down the phone.

He looks up and both are watching him. "I've been thinking about a change in scenery," Tony says. Rhodey quirks an eyebrow. Vision is expressionless, as he is most days now. "How do you feel about going back to the Tower?"

Tony can't wait as Rhodey contemplates him and the question. He grabs the washcloth and begins scrubbing down the counter. There is a knick in the quartz from when Natasha slammed a knife to keep Bruce from stealing vegetables as she made salsa, eyes smiling enough to match Bruce's actual one on his face. He turns and flips the dish washer on, running his fingers across the ding in the door from when Thor bumped into it.

Once he has every surface, he takes the time to wipe down the fridge's handles. It's to get the handprints off the stainless steel, and he doesn't think about the fact he could be wiping away of Nat's moody periogies by the dozen that is either made in utter silence or quiet humming. He adjusts the magnets Clint uses to display the portraits of the Avengers he got as "fanmail".

"It's a bit too large here," Rhodey muses. "Feels like I am rattling around your old mansion." He takes another sip of coffee.

Tony scans the room for anything else. There is still a grocery list on a legal pad in Wanda's looping script that he has to pick up and wipe under. There are doodles in the margin that Tony skims over.

"Too many ghosts rattling around there," Tony agrees. He crosses the room to the glass table littered with papers, books, and other assorted junk. He shuffles but ultimately leaves the mail with Wilson's D.C. address at the top of the pile.

"Large buildings with no one to fill them are uncomfortable," Vision adds in a soft tone.

Tony can hear Rhodey's chair creak he turns. He scrubs a stain on the table left over from the "we will never allow Tony to cook again" incident from 3 months ago. It won't come out.

Jarvis used to know the answer to how to clean out stains when Tony made them. He would carefully explain every step as Toby watched as oil, fruit juice, scotch just disappeared from shirts or surfaces. Ana would distract him after, with stories about Hungary and the letters she receives from her cousins and nieces and nephews. Tony doesn't remember any of the lessons or stories. He aches where the reactor used to be as he scrubs a little harder. Effort, he does remember, was always something Jarvis emphasized.

"You're right Vision," Rhodey says. "So the Tower?"

"Yeah," Tony replies. His voice comes out weak and reedy. He clears his throat before continuing. "Pack up what you want. We all have rooms at the Tower. I can have movers come whenever you are ready."

Rhodey hands Tony his mug. He takes it and puts it in the sink, carefully washing the ceramic before leaving it on the drying rack. He goes back for the cloth he was using for drying when he catches Rhodey still watching him.

"What?" Tony barks. His shoulders feel like they are sound his ears, tense and aching.

Rhodey opens his mouth, narrows his eyes, and then asks, "You going to pack anything?"

Tony imagines the long walk to his room, and the open doors, the glimpse at the dust collecting, the windows open. All those things he needs to clean up, package away. "I have everything I need at the Tower."

Rhodey shifts, like he is about to do something and Tony takes a deep breath until he can feel his lungs pressing against his ribs, too full and ready to burst. "Okay Tones," Rhodey sighs instead. He slips off the chair and goes towards the stairs.

Tony watches him, noting the move of the cameras as FRIDAY follows him too. "Fry, inform me if he-" he starts.

"I will let you know if Colonel Rhodes needs your help boss," FRIDAY responds, patience clear in her tone. "I have also begun the process of opening the Tower apartments back up to the usual personnel."

Nodding, Tony turns back to the mug and wipes it dry in a few easy movements. He puts it up, carefully trying to keep the noise to a minimum. He turns back to see

"I can find other accommodations if necessary Mr. Stark," Vision says in JARVIS' old voice, a perfect replica of Jarvis' posture when he was deferring to Howard.

"No," Tony bites out. It's rushed, a bit too quick, but Vision tilts his head in a manner that is so very him that Tony can finally breathe. "No," he adds. "Vision come back to the Tower. It's your birthplace after all."

Vision watches him, and sometimes Tony can see the code behind his eyes. The way Vision is running through if/else statements, trying to find the correct action based on the parameters given to him. The databases he is scouring. The code that Tony originally built, high off sleep deprivation and other things.

And then he goes and says things like, "I'm not sure you are comfortable with me being in the same location as you after what happened to Colonel Rhodes." And Tony knows that isn't something he wrote. The empathy.

"No," Tony replies. "No. It's not that. If it was that…" Tony needs a drink or five. He scans the room for Scotch and sees none. "If I was worried you were a threat, you would never be around Rhodey."

Honesty, raw brutal honesty, always makes him want to drink. He goes back and opens the fridge and grabs a beer. It's Clint's brand. Tony only knows because it has a sticky note on it that screams "CLINT'S BEER. DO NOT TOUCH TONY." He's never been good at following directions, especially in the form of sticky notes.

He unscrews the lid and downs the whole thing before coming up for air. Vision is still staring at him when he looks back. "You're a reminder," Tony admits. He spreads his arms, indicating to the room at large. "Rhodey. Rhodey's been around for ages. And yes, the legs, those sting. But you're a reminder of everything."

He gets another beer and chugs it. Vision fills the silence with a faint, "I remind you of your mistakes? Ultron? The Accords?"

"No kiddo," Tony responds darkly. "The Accords. I'll fight for those until my dying breath. We fuck up. We all do. It's what makes us human. But we have to have consequences or we'll become inhuman. And Ultron," he pauses. There are so many things that could be said, should be said, but won't be. "That was an attempt at trying to be more inhuman than I should have. But there is a parallel universe where that program worked. Where we achieved it, and I got to retire and tinker with things like prosthetics and internet chips in your brain, and we never had these issues."

He sighs. "No. You're a reminder of the good times. The Avengers. The dreams we shared, the idea that we could save the planet instead of tearing it apart. The chance that we could right our wrongs."

"It's not you," he says. "It's me. I'm flawed. Hell, everyone knows that. I see the forest and not the trees sometimes, but you're the freaking Amazon to me and all I can see is what I wanted the Accords to be." For us.

Vision is staring at him, but something in his face has eased. Something like understanding in his eyes. "Stay with me buddy. I just got to get over this hurdle. I'll get there eventually. It's just going to take time."

"I'm sorry," Vision utters quietly.

"Not you Viz," Tony responds, as sincere as he gets. "All me."

The sunlight from the open windows gleams off Vision on the unnatural way Tony has adjusted to over time. It took some time, after the relief and childish glee that it worked, that they were alive, wore off, but Tony adjusted. He's good at iterative development, adjusting as the requirements change.

Vision smiles, a small, tiny thing. But it's real. Tony grins back.

* * *

From _Nat Something_

Everyone is out and okay. Thought you would want to know.

From _Tony_

You shouldn't contact me again on this phone. All Avenger digital channels are being monitored by the UN.

From _Nat Something_

You and I both know you could get around that if you wanted to.

From _Tony_

I don't. That was the whole point. Or did you forget about accountability and wiping out the red in our ledgers?

From _Nat Something_

Just because you are angry about Rhodey doesn't mean you should take it out on me.

From _Nat Something_

I heard he is walking.

From _Tony_

FRIDAY has locked you out of all SI and Avengers servers.

From _Nat Something_

Really Tony?

From _Tony_

You chose your side Widow. Leave me to pick up the pieces of mine.

From _Nat Something_

You were going to try and stop them and were going to get hurt. Steve was going to go too far to protect Barnes. I needed to do that so no one would do anything they would regret.

From _Nat Something_

I chose the middle.

From _Nat Something_

I just wanted everyone safe.

From _Nat Something_

I know that's what you want too.

From _Tony_

I wanted a lot of things

From _Tony_

I won't come looking for the Cap squad. But if we meet again, I can't help you Nat. You need to make sure they know that. I can't help

From _Nat Something_

I will.

From _Nat Something_

Thank you.

* * *

Tony is four.

Tony is four, and he has all these ideas in his head, and he can't sketch them out. It's like his brain and his hand can't communicate, and it just makes him so mad. When he tries to explain what he is doing, he doesn't know all the words. He pauses and when his Dad, Mom or even Jarvis try to help fill in the gaps, they are always wrong.

So he sits in his corner of the Jarvis' living room tonight while his Mom, Ana and Jarvis talk. The glance back at him every few words until Jarvis brings out the dominoes, and it becomes a high stakes game of Muggins that turns even the mild tempered Jarvis vicious.

His father sketches, hums and mutters as he works. His scotch glass marks the fine paper he uses for his blueprints. Usually, Tony is sitting beside him, as close as he can to his lap or the table, depending on Dad's mood that day, taking in the designs with wide eyed delight, and listening to the careful explanations or the loud mutters as he slashed through designs and adding notes in the margins.

Tony, by contrast tonight, has parts scattered all around him, half in and out of the box he had stored them in. He has the copper board before him, running the acetone rag across the top. The sheet he printed from Dad's SI printer ("half the size of that old Xerox one!" Howard had boasted) sitting beside him. With his kiddie scissors, he carefully cuts the designed circuit, and fits it on top of the board. He places both on the towel pile beside him. The iron that Ana had set out beside him is pressed to the paper. The table bursts into laughter, and with a clatter of noise covers the hiss the iron makes as he presses.

Howard looks up, briefly, at Tony and nods before turning back to his paper. Tony removes the iron and quickly unplugs it. He dunks the board in his water glass Mom had set aside for him before peeling back the paper. The dark marks on the board aren't as dark has he had expected, so he grabs the sharpie he had gathered from his father's desk a few weeks previous and colors in the lines.

It's hard to get it precisely right, and he knows he has a funny look on his face, because when Mom glances over this time she laughs softly, gathering Ana and Jarvis' attention and quick admiration.

"Just like his father," Maria whispers.

"Less messy," Jarvis counters. Ana quietly smiles as she takes her next domino.

He picks up his fist sized board and heads outside. There is a bottle of ferric chloride he has hidden in the shed near the Jarvis home, along with a mason jar and set of kitchen tongs. He pulls the plastic goggles he gotten from his science kit on his 3rd birthday and straps them around his head before carefully pouring enough of the purid green liquid into the jar before dropping the board inside.

Tony quickly puts the ferric chloride aside before anyone can catch sight of the bottle. It's dark outside, and when Ana looks the window, he waves brightly. She smiles, waves back, before going back to the game.

After a little while, Tony rushes back inside, goggles still on and grabs his glass of water and the bag of baking soda he had asked Ana to give him a day earlier.

"What are you up to Tony?" Mom asks. Her red lips are wide in a teasing smile, and even Dad looks up at that comment.

"An experiment," Tony declares. His new favorite codeword has his mother grinning. She loves his experiments. He comes and explains them all to her, and Dad watches a smile at the edge of his lips, and Tony always thinks, he has to be proud of me. If he actually smiles he is proud of me.

He lingers at the table before she urges him to "finish so I can see what you're doing". Tony trots out, stolen towel under his arm as well. He checks to make sure the towel isn't one of Ana's embroidered ones before placing down the glass and towel on the ground. He grabs the tongs, using them to grab the board one handed while he uses his free hand to rinse the board off onto the towel. The goop sloshes off from the board, which is clear of copper and now the sickly green color of his snot when he is ill, except for the complicated design on the front.

He hides all the evidence with the baking soda poured into the ferric chloride. It foams as he dumps the glass of water dumped into the ferric chloride and then carefully trots to the garage where the trash bags sit, waiting to be taken to the curb later that evening. Tony unties the knot and slips the jar, used baggie and tongs in. He trots back into the house, towel under his arm, glass and board clutched tightly in his hands. Jarvis watches him as he places the glass carefully in the dishwasher and towel in the box.

Afterwards, he perches back in his seat. He grabs the rag from before and scrubs the design down until it gleams of copper instead of the black marker. He studies his multi-colored lego prototype before nodding to himself. The design matches.

He turns to his father, scotch refreshed and contemplating this scribbles with a notes with a smirk of satisfaction. "Dad?"

The chatter at the table quiets. The silence is only broken by the click of dominoes on the table. Click click. Pause. Click click. Pause.

"Yes?" Howard says in his usual distracted manner.

Tony contemplates the green board for a moment before turning his gaze back to his father. He can see Mom watching the scene intently. Her eyes are on both of them, dominoes abandoned completely, while Jarvis and Ana consulting over the unfinished game.

"Can I use the drill in your lab?" Tony asks.

Dad leans down and scribbles another note. "What do you need a drill for Tony?" he queries to his paper.

Tony straightens. "I need to drill holes into my circuit board to see if it works."

Even Ana and Jarvis turn to look at him. He fidgets with with board. Maria is watching him with a soft smile. "I think you can use it for your miniaturized circuit board design."

Dad had been, for a long time, moaning about the inability of his team to catch up to Intel's 8008 integrated chip. He had been over sketches upon sketches. He had ripped apart televisions, the first personalized computer, the Datapoint 2200, but nothing had been done.

Dad puts his glass down. "Tony, you've created a board with some markings on it. That doesn't mean it's a working circuit board." He is smiling, but it's not the one he wants and they coo at how he looks just like his father. The one he uses in interviews, or at the adult parties when he carries Tony around. Not the one he uses with Aunt Peggy or Uncle Daniel or Jarvis or Ana or even Mom.

He only has the vaguest grasp of what a computer is. It takes in inputs and returns answers. Like he had typed 1+1 and it had returned 2. He had typed the beginning to his favorite book one letter at a time, and the computer had displayed it on the screen. His father had allowed him to play with the the Datapoint before he had systematically taken the computer apart. The circuit board, in 1973, had been longer than his arm. He remembers staring at it and seeing the simple lines that connected the processor together, all spaced out in wide copper bands. It had to be easy to make it smaller.

So he had taken his legos and replicated the design one day. He had slowly narrowed it, using smaller and smaller blocks until he had taken the size down from his arm to his fist.

The thing about circuit boards is that they are easy . They are just connectors. Wires in flat copper lines that connect one thing to another, a battery to a light. The ram and the microprocessor for a computer.

"Just try it," Tony replies as he holds out his board. "I just need the holes, the soldering for the wires to put the battery and the light in."

Dad takes the board and inspects it, lips melting into a frown. "Tony if this doesn't work, I'm going to be very angry you bothered me with this."

Mom hisses at him, quietly furious. " Howard! "

He turns back to her, "Tony knows he isn't supposed to annoy me when I am working." Tony does know. He also knows his board will work.

"Just try it Dad," he urges.

His mother stands and whispers something in Dad's ear. Dad's frown deepens. "Okay, okay you harpy," Dad bites out as he stands. "I'll do it."

Tony follows as his dad leaves the cozy Jarvis home. They do into the lab, gleaming metal everywhere, tools strung across every surface. Dad makes quick work of drilling the holes, soldering the battery holder and five multicolored lights in place. He hands it back to Tony to slide the quarter sized battery into place.

All five bulbs light up.

"How did you come up with?" Dad says as he takes the board from Tony. Tony shrugs as his father turns it over.

"I just made it smaller. I think you could put another circuit on the other side and use both sides."

"What did you model it after?"

Tony turns to the Datapoint and points. Dad follows his finger the disassembled computer. "You know I've been looking in how to do this for a year?"

Tony shrugs. "I just wanted to see if I could make it smaller."

(Tony's older now, had enough therapy, read enough to know that maybe his dad didn't know how to be a father. He remembers the brightest around his father's eyes and knows the books at the SI tells a story of up and down finances, and he has to wonder how he didn't know how much the company struggled when he was young. One bad design after another. A few bad investments. A scandal or two.

He does remember the long nights. The ones where he would sit outside his father's office long past his bedtime and listen to him mutter and tinker and try and be his best self, falling asleep there until someone probably Jarvis would pick him up and tuck him into bed.

But to this day, Tony remember his father's face with perfect clarity as he inspected his son's microchip. He thinks that is where it really started.

Because that chip was a prototype. It was used to create a machine created version instead of his PCB that was placed in the Stark Industries first personal computer, sleek and chrome and of the future like Howard could always sell. It bust into the market in time for Christmas 1974, making millions, destroying any small computing company and launching SI into the black for the most long lasting time with an actual consumer product and not just income from military sales.

He knows that look now. Tony saw it enough time on faces that weren't just his father's. Tiberius Stone. Justin Hammer. Obie. It's like Obie always said. He has the stamina of an Olympic swimmer when it came to software and hardware. Howard could swim decently enough, but it was a struggle some days.

That's the moment , he thinks - knows now. That is the moment when he became a competitor to his own father.

Tony is four, and after that moment, his dad never looks at him exactly the same way again.)

* * *

To _spiderboy_

we're moving into the tower. this is your friendly fyi. ffyi.

To _spiderboy_

bring your suit by. i need to run a few diagnostics on my precious

To _Mr Stark_

Yes! How about after work on Friday?

To _spiderboy_

i'll leave a window or something open for you

To _spiderboy_

how is the plan to fuel my alcoholism going?

To _Mr Stark_

Um...consider this intern demo a wash

To _Mr Stark_

Please don't look up the footage

To _spiderboy_

wooow. is the leg fritzing out because of the power surge or the water?

To _spiderboy_

i'm impressed.

To _spiderboy_

so is Rhodey.

To _spiderboy_

we're going to name this new safety protocol the Parker Rule

To _Mr Stark_

Please don't

To _spiderboy_

don't worry kid. we add like five billion new rules every year.

To _spiderboy_

the one about no sex in the labs is totally my fault.

To _spiderboy_

along with the pants protocol.

To _spiderboy_

you don't want to know

To _Mr Stark_

I really don't.

To _Mr Stark_

You've lived an interesting life

To _spiderboy_

you know that's the kid friendly version.

To _spiderboy_

the real story takes place back in 93

To _Mr Stark_

OMG PLEAse STOP

To _spiderboy_

don't call me old

To _Mr Stark_

I swear on my soul or something. Please never again.

To _spiderboy_

didn't you know i already own that?

To _spiderboy_

that intern contract is pretty though

To spiderboy

and air tight

To spiderboy

:D

To Mr Stark

WHAT

To Mr Stark

i hate you

To spiderboy

first stage to loving me

* * *

Tony is sitting in the open area in the Tower, in diffidence to Rhodey and his request that he keep Tony in his eye line since Tony stumble upon and drank a DUMMY special smoothie and there had been an hour long puking session and too much yelling and a lot of water and maybe an IV. He could leave any time he wanted, but the TV in the background was nice. Rhodey's willingness to put various forms of liquid sustenance in front of him was even better.

The move into the Tower had been quiet, unassuming, and not picked up by the press really. Tony has been a bit impressed with how he was being left alone. After almost a month, he was losing the first place on Google to Finding Dory. Tony couldn't be more relieved.

He is stretched out across the couch, his feet in Rhodey's lap as he skims the patent application for the exoskeleton. "How about 'the amazing legs'?"

"No Tony," Rhodey absently responds with. He grabs onto Tony's feet and starts rubbing down Tony's arches.

Tony squirms a little. "What about 'pirate legs'?"

"Still a no." He finds a stubborn knot on Tony's heel and starts working on that. Tony inadvertently lets out a low groan.

"What about-?"

Rhodey turns. "You keep talking, and I'll stop this." He pulls back his hands from Tony's feet, and Tony whines, thrusting his sock clad foot in Rhodey's face. Rhodey just stares him down, and Tony can feel himself slumping on the couch.

"Okay, I'll shut up," he says to his tablet more than Rhodey.

Rhodey picks up where he left off, and when Tony glances over at him a few minutes later, there is still a big grin on his face. "You suck," Tony pouts.

"Not for you," he returns, calm.

The laughter from Rhodey at Tony's face covers the sounds of the elevator opening, but Rhodey's sudden sober expression clues in Tony. He pulls his feet back and sits up to see Bruce standing just outside the elevator, bags in hand. His hair is bigger, curls looser. He definitely got a tan in India, but he's clad in his favorite loose linen pants and untucked button down. He has a wary expression on his face as he takes in the scene and the room.

Tony is struck by a reminder about how much the Tower never changed after Ultron. He had been working on the compound, and it had been ready shortly after Sokovia, and the team had moved in mass to leave the bad memories behind. Widow, he remembers, had been one of the first to make the move.

"Hi," Bruce utters. "I guess my room is the same."

"Yeah," Tony nods. "Nothing's been changed. If you down, your floor will be opened for you by FRIDAY. We had it sealed off when you went on vacation. Oh say hi FRIDAY."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Banner. I am Mr. Stark's AI. Please let me know if there is anything you need," FRIDAY announces, scottish brogue showing a bit more than usual.

Bruce finds the nearest camera and tips his head in greeting. "The pleasure is all mine," he responds.

He turns back to Tony and Rhodey. Both watch him as he shifts his weight, "Mind if I put away my bags and take a shower before we talk Tony?"

Tony waves his hand. "Yeah go do what you need to. I'll be here. Pretending to be a starch instead of a Stark."

Rhodey hits his foot. "That is a terrible joke," he says.

The elevator door shut, but both ignores it. Tony pulls his feet away from Rhodey's death grip and crosses them under him, tablet discarded on the armrest and a decorative pillow in his hands instead. "Okay it's not the best," Tony acknowledges, ignoring the Hulk sized issue in the room. "But we both know it's better than Mr. Stank, which is just childish and annoying."

Rhodey grins. "If it's annoying, then I am doing my job right."

He makes a grab for the pillow, and Tony moves it before his fingers can touch. Rhodey makes another grab, and they end up wrestling over a decorative pillow with a whale on it for a good five minutes. Vision strolls by as they fight, throwing different nicknames at each other, and murmurs something to FRIDAY.

"One sec," Tony tells Rhodey. "The children are conspiring against us. What are you saying to FRIDAY Viz? I need to remind you that I helped create you, so you should be on my side and not Rhodey's!"

Rhodey stills vying for the the pillow Tony has above his head. "You better not lick the pillow again Tony."

"Hush, this is important. I need to check on the kids."

"Ugh, you won't promise. I want nothing to do with this any more."

Vision's magenta face looks amused in his carefully neutral expression. "FRIDAY and I were taking bets on who would win."

"So your kids," Rhodey mutters, dropping his head on Tony's chest. The thud echoes down his false sternum.

"Who did you bet for?" Tony asks, ignoring the memories rearing up at the pressure on his chest..

"Colonel Rhodes of course," Vision replies. "He has the superior military training background that would easily allow him to win a skirmish like this."

"Betrayed!" Tony bellows, wriggling under Rhodey in an attempt to buck him. "By my own child."

"I believe I take more after Dr. Banner," Vision admits.

"This," Tony says, "is quite literally one of the worst conversations I have ever been in. And I have to deal with crazy models."

"That was a personal choice," FRIDAY reminds him. "And thus a personal problem."

"Betrayed by both my children!" Tony shouts.

Rhodey is shaking into his chest, and Tony knows Bruce is a few levels above. Vision is grinning at him with a smile he stole from Clint, and Tony feels something for longer than a second that isn't an endless darkness in his soul. Happy, he thinks. I'm happy.

* * *

From: _thedeskoftheking_

I believe you and I should have a conversation about the Sokovia Accords. Your legal team has engaged the United Nations about the wording around the accords and are preparing for negotiations for more rigorous contacts. Since this would impact myself as well, I would like to ascertain if our viewpoints align on this topic.

* * *

Bruce finds him, hours later, tinkering in the lab. Not the one they used to share, but the other one that Tony claimed as his own when he had moved back in a few days ago. The bots whistle when he enters, but Tony ignores it. He finishes soldering the circuit, movements delicate as he connects the microprocessor to the miniature ARC sphere. It's smaller than a ring now, and Tony can't help but smile at the fact that he got it this small without someone else's help, old video or not.

He puts the board aside and straightens, spine cracking as he over compensates for his hunched posture for too long. He discards his goggles, and turns off the light he had on before tracking Bruce's movements.

The other man is pursuing footage from the fight on one of the monitors twenty feet away from Tony. They both stay silent as Scott Lang burst onto the scene, larger than life on the tarmac of the German airport. Spiderman rears back in the background, as Lang grabs onto Rhodey's leg. There is a pause as Vision comes into view before Lang tosses Rhodey. Spiderman scrambles to catch Rhodey, a truck goes flying, but they miss the plane before redirecting.

The footage goes on for a while, switches angles or feeds. It's the compilation he had had FRIDAY put together, right after. Tony still hasn't watched it.

Vision covering Black Panther. Tony and Falcon going after each other. Rhodey, Spidey, Vision and Panther going after Lang. Wanda going after Rhodey. Cap and Winter Solider booking it across the tarmac. Hawkeye engaging Panther. Vision taking down the tower. Rhodey hitting Wanda with the amplified sonic vibration. Bruce pauses on the footage of Cap and Winter Soldier disappearing under the crumbling tower.

The destruction, knowing how it ends, watching his teammates get batted around like they are nothing, makes some long forgotten anger bubble in Tony's gut.

(He had told all of his guys, quietly, as Cap and his band of misfits had approached, non lethal force guys. They are some of ours. We just need to subdue and collar them.

Panther had been pissed about not being able to take out Winter Solider, but Tony had promised him fifteen minutes alone once they figured out what the hell was going on. It wasn't like he hadn't tagged the suit in case he needed to shock some sense into the King. Probably would have landed him in the RAFT, but whatever got everyone to shut up and sit down.

There had been a plan. Get everyone on a plane. Take the scenic route and shout this out with everyone in the room. Figure out what was going on with the Winter Solider thing. Fix any brainwashing that had happened to Cap. Get everyone to know what line to toe so Tony could fix this disaster before Ross got his hands on anyone.

There had been a _plan_. )

"Tony you could have just talked to them," Bruce states to the quiet room as he turns.

Tony scoffs. "Talked? When the hell have we ever talked around here. We save the world, have a few socializing events and then disperse. Or that's it seems to work for me. I notice all the SHIELD kids buddying up together."

He moves towards the wet bar, looking for the scotch and then redirecting once he finds it. Now isn't the time. "But me? I sit here and try and keep my R&D department from crashing while making the pretty little weapons you guys so nicely request."

"That's not how it worked and you know that," Bruce returns, voice even. He's watching as Tony moves, like he's eyeing a caged animal.

"How would you know?" Tony bites out, bitterness bleeding into every word. "You've been MIA for a few months."

Bruce's shoulders go up, and he grabs ahold of a nearby chair. "Tony that isn't the problem at hand."

"Isn't it?" Tony says. "You wanted out. You were out. I had you away from the SHIELDS of the world who wanted you in a cage if you weren't near a superhero, by the way. I had you safe, and you came back."

He spreads his arms wide. "Not your problem any more. Why the hell do you care about us. You abandoned us."

"Tony," Bruce says softly. His entire frame is hunches, and he's clutching the chair like it's the only thing hold him up. "Not okay Tony."

Tony winces at the old code. "I'm sorry. I don't mean it that way, but after Ultron…" He waves his hand. "With them. It was like…"

"Everything you said mattered a little less." Bruce catches the thread of his thought. His knuckles aren't as white as they were a second ago.

"Yeah," Tony said, exhausted to his bones. He leans heavily on a counter, opposite side of the room. The bags under his eyes hurt. He looks away from Bruce. "I murdered 2,375 people in Sokovia. 37% were under the age of 12. They didn't even get to torture their parents with their terrible teenage years.".

He sighs. "That is on me. It will always be on me. I just wanted to make sure no one else had to live with that."

"Tony, we both made Ultron. That is a burden I share too," Bruce says softly.

Tony shakes his head. Bruce is watching with a terrible heartbreak in his eyes. This must be the first time he heard the numbers. "I made you. You didn't want to, and I manipulated you." He takes in a deep breath before continuing, "I still think about it. What if we had done it right. Waited a little longer. Tested everything. Stayed in the bounds of what we understood and knew."

He tilts his head back, staring at the glass covering the ceiling. Bruce is moving, Tony can see it in the reflection. The silence rings in the room.

"You didn't force me to do anything," Bruce says finally. "I am a grown man with issues backing away from bleeding edge scientific discoveries. See my Mr Hyde for a prime example."

Tony huffs a laugh while Bruce comes to a halt beside him. "If you really want to be a martyr, then 1188 can be on your conscious. I'll take 1186,"

"Okay," he hums. "If that is what you want."

Bruce makes a disapproving noise in his throat. "I want a lot of things. But right now, I want you to let me share the burden. I'm here Tony."

He lays a hand on Tony's left arm. Tony stands there, head hung and takes comfort in the fact that Bruce is here. That he is warm and alive and right here .

There are moments before all of this, where they were all almost friends. Comrades in arms definitely. Friendly but almost friends. After, he deluded himself thinking it would all be the same eventually. With some measures and a few more socially things, things could go back to really friendly.

But Bruce has been different. He had been a friend.

They had been the person they tried to stick spaghetti against when talking about idea. They had had so many discussions on theoretical concepts like time travel, alternate seminarians. The never ending rants about magic. There had been discussion about the future they wanted to craft. The lives they wanted to live. Secrets, dreams, wishes poured out from their hearts.

Bruce had been real, once.

"I see piles of bodies when I close my eyes these days. I see all of you at the bottom, and I know it's my fault," he admits. Bruce's hand tightens on his arm. "I know it's a nightmare. It's some stuff lingering from Wanda's dark side stuff. But I can't shake it."

"Did you ever talk to Wanda about it?"

Tony shakes his head. "She barely has control of her powers. I didn't want her thinking she had messed up my head." Bruce loosens his grip just a hair.

"Did you ever tell anyone else?" he queries.

Tony shakes his head again, this time a chuckle busts loose. "I've had shitty dreams since I was 19. How is this any different?"

"Tony," Bruce breathes out.

"I didn't want someone blaming my work on the Accords on that," Tony finally says.

He catches Bruce's, looking for some accusation, some anger, something. He catches sight of something worse - endless grief written in every line of his feature. "I know you were working on those Accords longer than you would admit. Politics never move fast."

And Tony had. There had been lobbyists to find, influence and fund. Senators to get on his side to make changes that didn't begin at Powered individual and end with automatic jail time . Then there had been ambassador, lobbyists in 193 countries and keeping the money funneled so it was so far away from his name that no one could ever trace it back to him. It had all been in motion since Ultron, and Tony hadn't wanted this one on his conscious again.

The other had been too busy to bother this with. Cap with his hunt for the Winter Solider, the missions that had been funneled their way by Maria Hill about various "Avenger level concerns". Clint had his family and his golf and retirement, even if he popped by every once in a while to visit. Wanda had had the never ending well of grief she was trying to train away with her powers, too young and too broken that made Tony ache.

Natasha hadn't wanted to admit it but Bruce leaving had been a wound to her as much as Tony. Her steadily increasing mission time has been enough of a sign for even Tony to notice. Thor had been gone, but he won't have understood, and Sam was too new for Tony to even get beyond "hello".

No one had needed to know, Tony had told himself. No one needed to worry. He just needed to get these regulations downgraded, then bring them up. It was his role in the Avengers to deal with the political and PR BS. He could do this, take care of this, and move on.

Then Lagos had happened, and everything had escalated beyond what he could control

"Tony, even mind control couldn't stop you once you were on a mission."

Bruce is smiling in the corner of his mouth. It's another the old joke, brought on by a discussion way too late at night about scenarios and code words and how they should handle from of the craziest scenarios. After aliens invading Manhattan, anything is possible, right?

Tony grins back. It's crazed, but he's a bit on edge. The scene of Vision taking Rhodey is playing in his head, and what ifs are ringing in his ears. He starts laughing, shaking down to his toes. He bends until his hands are on his thighs, and Bruce lets him go as he starts chuckling too.

Bruce's hand rests on his back as they shake and laugh for a good five minutes, until it almost turns into a chokes sob that Tony bites back last minute. He pulls back when he can breathe normally and the ache in his stomach isn't debilitating any more.

"Why Ross though?" Bruce finally asks. "You could have gone with anyone else."

"Not really, " Tony admits. "Your arch nemesis has the president's ear and has played his cards right that the UN adores him for catering to their whims. He had had his claws into the Accords from the beginning, and with it gaining power along side him, I thought that I had enough time to expose his doucheyer sides and get him removed and our own guy leading the charge." He pauses before pushing off the wall. "I thought I had more time."

He heads back to the table and picks up a StarkTablet. Bruce follows as he continues to the screen, changing the display until it show a directory of files for his different files.

"That wasn't the only plan," Bruce spots.

Tony hums. "There were others."

"And?"

"One is in play." Tony pulls up the directory called DREXLER "I need some things working first."

Bruce lets it go. "What are you looking into these days?"

FRIDAY obligingly pulls up the prototypes in the directory. "I'm thinking we go truly science fiction and nanobots. Cure cancer, allow guys to walk again, accelerated healing without all that nasty radiation."

Bruce begins playing with the nanobot prototype nearest to him, pulling his glasses off the top of his head until they are perched on his nose as he squints. "It needs to be something semi organic so it doesn't poison the patient or they body rejects it."

They stay down there, spitting ideas back and forth as FRIDAY records them, until Vision drifts through the ceiling causing a bark of fright from Bruce. "Colonel Rhodes has asked both of you to come upstairs for dinner. He says, and quote, 'I'm not fixing dinner to get stood up. Tell Tony to drag his butt up down before I come down there and do it for him." His voice is a perfect mimicry of Rhodey's. Tony isn't sure if it's a recording or something of his own creation.

"Meet Vision," Tony introduces. "I think we've decided that you are his mother Brucey bear."

Tony knows Bruce's heard about Vision. Everyone has, even in remote corners of the globe. That's what happens where there is a merchandising deal around a superhero group. And a cartoon. And other assorted things on the internet Tony pretends he doesn't know about, but FRIDAY categorizes with a glee he definitely did not program into her.

"I believe all your 'children' consider you their mother," Vision retorts mildly. "Dr. Banner is my father in this scenario."

Tony gaps. "I'm a mother? And I didn't get anything for Mother's Day? For shame son of mine. For shame!"

Vision inclines his head. "I will take this into account for future scenarios." He turns back to Bruce. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Dr. Banner. I have a few queries that hopefully you can resolve."

The look of wonder on Bruce's face stays with Tony the rest of the night, even when his smile doesn't.

* * *

From 54985-466-8653

Tony. What do you know about brainwashing?

* * *

Steve reaches his arm around Tony's shoulder as they both stare out at the half finished Avengers complex. The giant A is on the front.

"Tony," Steve starts. "I can't -"

Tony bites back a grin. "You kept bitching about the training room in the Tower, so I decided to build an entire training field. You like it?"

"Like it?" Steve rears back. His eyes are wide. "I love it"

He turns back to the facility. "We can train the younger ones to take our places here. I know you have been tracking those kids around town. We can become more co-hensive and be less afraid of learning our limits and hurting someone out here."

"We're going to make this a home."

Tony's cheeks hurt from smiling too much. He puts a fist out, and Steve gently bumps it with his. "That was the plan Captain my Captain."

Steve doesn't protest the nickname for once.

They stand out there for a while, watching the construction workers finish up for the day and take off until it's just the two of them, leaning against Tony's car, grinning like fools at the half built building.

"You did good Tony," Steve says softly.

Tony presses his arm against in a quiet thanks. "Want to head back?" he offers.

"How about a burger instead?" Steve asks.

Tony lights up. "Oooh it's been forever since I have had a burger. Don't tell Pepper. She'll kick my ass five ways until Sunday and her heels hurt . What about In and Out?"

"Stop it Fry," he barks. The simulation stops, the false sunlight dims, and it's just the lab again, Tony can see his hand outstretched, ready to reach out and shake him, turning him around, something.

He sighs and sits down, head in his hands and brain jumbled. It's okay Rhodey. We can pull this off. We can keep everyone safe , he remembers saying. His voice was full of false cheer, back straight and grin firmly on his lips. Rhodey had had a tightest in his face as he agreed, hand on Tony's shoulder as they had stood together before Germany. Before the airport. Before-

"Boss," FRIDAY cuts in. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Go for it Fry," Tony says to the floor, massaging his temples and hoping his brain just stops hurting for five minutes.

A screen lights up above him, and Tony has to take a moment before he can sit up without wincing. There is a diagnostic of a brain rotating in a holographic format. Below it, his name is written in blocky letters with a steady stream of data scrolling besides it. Cognitive ability, time elapses during session, time elapsed after session until subject shows full ability. "What's this Fry? You monitoring me?"

"My prime directive is to provide any insight about your health, mental or physical when necessary," she returns promptly.

"Brain scans are necessary now?" Tony snarks, expanding out the data. He stills the steady stream and reads it slowly. "Are you monitoring my brain when we launch the BARF protocol?"

"Yes boss." The machines in the room hum a little more loudly, and Tony half hears a yes sir in the place of her words. The fight drains out of him in the second it takes him to remember FRIDAY not JARVIS.

Tony sighs. "What have you found girl?"

"It looks like decreased mental capacity every time you stay under longer once you come out of the simulation. Your brain seems stuck in the experiment and had a hard time adjusting all cognitive senses to the real world. The brain is calibrating but after increasingly longer periods." She provides four screens of footage of him sitting around various locations, fast forwarded with time stamps until he stands and leaves the rooms. Each one gets progressively longer. Sometimes five seconds, others hours.

Tony restarts the one where he was in the only Jarvis residence. He sits there, dazed as he stares around the dusty room. It still hasn't changed. With a quick stretch of his fingers, his face is zoomed in. There are tear tracks. "Are we taking into consideration any variation that would be necessary with extreme emotions and recovery times."

"I am taking generic timelines," she replies.

Tony waves the data away. "Go through former data and video, take into account body language and average times for moods to disapparate. Make sure to check for the alcohol variable. You may need different data sets. This is all normal."

There is a pause. "Yes boss. Should I inform you of what results I find?"

Tony flicks open a new screen, rough prelim schematics he originally had for the next armor version after he had finished some test runs on the 46th. "Only if the anomalies are outside the 28% range in a majority of cases."

"Yes boss," she repeats as she pulls up video from the last round of testing, notes from him during flights about things to fix.

He takes a moment, turns back to the counter. There is a glass ready, and DUMMY rolls over, hooting softly with an ice tray. With a quick pat on the arm, Tony takes the large ice block from the tray. Tony puts the glass down to pour the scotch with two hands before putting the decanter back.

With a tight grip, he takes a drink before holding his arm out. His fingers shake slightly. Tony fists his hand before looking back at all the screens. "Okay Mark 47. Let's start."

* * *

To _kittykat_

Looks like you're in Vienna on the 18th. I can meet you there. - Tony

To T _ony Stark_

I believe I have time before. I will detour to New York first and come by the Avengers Compound to discuss this. If you would not mind, we could travel to Austria together.

To _kittykat_

Come to the Avengers Tower.

To _kittykat_

Please refrain from sharing that tidbit with your houseguests.

To _Tony Stark_

Of course.

To _Tony Stark_

I'll be arriving on the 16th.

To _kittykat_

See you then

* * *

"Boss," FRIDAY calls.

Tony waves his hand without looking up. "No now FRIDAY. I gotta finish this."

The suit still lays in pieces across the table. He's got his glasses on for the finer work, half eye safety, half using the program he has installed to help zoom in and do the finer work on the watch gauntlet. There is a hologram of the suit lazily rotating across from him, different pieces of the suit, shifting and adapting as FRIDAY runs various stress tests on the MARK 48.

"Boss you're really going to want to see this."

Tony leans up as the TV turns on. The screen is too bright against the lens of his glasses, so he pulls them off as the sound resounds in the workroom. "Reports are saying the Captain America, Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch and Falcon are helping the rebels in the Kurdistan conflict. Here is cell phone footage of Scarlet Witch helping in a refugee camp."

Wanda's eyes flicker red and then brown on the screen as she waves a ball into the air, entertaining a group of children as she adds a second to the group. The footage is grainy, but Tony catches glimpse of a smile on her lips. Clint's there too - in the background - too blurry to be recognizable by anyone other than those who know him. He's there, watching over the scene, arms clasped in front of him.

The video goes back to the reporter. "There is has been footage of Falcon flying outside the camp, warding off Iranian troops from the air." The video cuts to Sam in the air from a distance and he swoops down, Red Wing ahead of him, as Iranian troops scatter without a shot fired.

Tony tightens his grip on the screw driver. At that close of a range, the lightweight body armor would not have been enough to absorb the shock of an armor piercing round, and if Tony knew those guns the Iranians were holding, they were Hammer Industries guns that were usually loaded with armor piercing rounds. "FRIDAY, alert Red Wing to advise Falcon to take a safer distance," Tony voices, barely above a whisper.

FRIDAY is kind enough to say, "Yes Boss," and not comment on it any further.

Tony clears his throat and goes back at the gauntlet. It seems small in his hands. Too small. "FRIDAY, reach out to the UN panel to see if they want us engaged."

"Seeing as this is an unrecognized nation by the UN, I do believe this is one instance where the Avengers will be requested to not engage," FRIDAY returns.

"Gotta check in no matter what," Tony replies as he disengages the gauntlet mode. The plain watch is left, the Hello from SI, UI booting up in the tiny screen. "We play nice with others now, remember?"

He picks up the next piece, the new ARC reactor that he was thinking about installing in the suit under a layer of Starkium. Vibranium had been a something he had thought about for a second, but Tony remembers the video from the Siberian facility FRIDAY had shown him after the bruises had turned green. It glows vibrantly, and the glasses list output numbers in the corner of his vision. It could power the suit even in the event of his death, but could cause a nuclear explosion with the right combination in case Tony needs that option. He inspects the locking mechanism, twisting it left and right to make sure it wouldn't engage. Tony is pressing his thumb against the edge at 7 o'clock when the reporter busts out, "It looks like we have footage of Captain America himself in battle. Be warned, this footage is graphic and should not be viewed by anyone under the age of 18."

The Captain bounds into the fray, reckless. He has grabbed a tank panel on his way in, and is using it when the bullets go flying. Once he gets close enough, the rain of bullets slow, and he tosses the panel, throwing the soldiers on the left a good ten feet back. He lands his first punch on the guy nearest his right, twisting at the soldier who comes in on his left and upper cuts the next guy in front of him. He kicks out to the left and takes out the ones who he ducked.

Red Wing slides in and tazes a group of five who slump down. This gives Captain America just enough space to step back and duck the next punch at his head. Falcon drops into a nearby group with a flying kick. They go at it for a while, and Tony is clutching the ARC reactor enough that it is biting into his hand.

Falcon gets an unlucky hit in the temple, and Cap roars even though there is no sound as Falcon goes down under two or three soldiers pulling at him. But there are some explosions, and Black Widow slides into view, sleek and deadly as she takes out the nearest group with her bites.

The Captain is moving as quickly as he can, tearing through the soldiers with little regard for their own health and safety, unlike the lectures he used to give about minimal public damage and injuries to others when they were going after targets. After D.C. and Sokovia, they were trying to keep as low a profile as possible. He and Widow get to Falcon about the same time, and they block their discovery from view of the camera. Red Wing hovers nearby, vigilant about the sea of moaning or unconcious people around them.

Widow appears under Falcon's arm. He's bleeding from his temple, but he's waving off Cap. His goggles are firmly on, but Tony knows that face. He's annoyed and pissed he gotten taken by surprise like he was.

"Looks like the Falcon is alright," the anchor says, relief clear in her voice as the view minimizes, "It also looks like the Black Widow is on the scene. One has to wonder if she will be sanctioned by the UN, since she signed the Sokovia Accords and is fighting in what is clearly a non UN mission."

Tony watches the tiny picture cycling through the footage again, as Falcon goes down, as Black Widow slips in. He stares at the bodies around the three of them, counting injuries and categorizing them.

"It looks like social media is calling this quintet the Secret Avengers," the anchor announces. "One has to wonder what Tony Stark and his Mighty Avengers are thinking right now."

Tony has to force himself to let go of the ARC reactor, the shape of the metal is indented onto his hand and stinging slightly as he relaxes the joints.

"The UN panel head would like to speak with you," FRIDAY says.

Tony rubs the bridge of his nose. "Shit. Okay. Video call?"

"No boss."

Tony rubs his right temple. "Mute the TV and put him on. It's a him right?"

"Yes boss," FRIDAY responds. "The Swedish ambassador."

"Mr. Stark?" a voice warbles in his earpiece.

"Oh, hello Mr. Ambassador. How are you on this fine day?" Tony greets as he smiles into the call. He stands up and begins to pace.

"Yes I know this is unexpected. I did not know either."

"No sir, you know I have no contact with my former teammates. You have access to all my communications if you would like to check."

"I know this is a bad position, but think of it this way, Kurdistan is a country that is not affiliated with the United Nations, so their movements within the country is perfectly legal."

He's on his thirteenth loop of the room.

"I understand the Iranian ambassador is not happy, but his troops were attacking a refugee camp. You and I both know he doesn't have a leg to stand on."

"Black Widow is currently helping out in this situation but she still stands with the Accords."

"Yes Mr. Ambassador."

Twenty seventh.

"Yes sir."

"I can do that."

"Do you want us to mobilize?"

"I understand sir."

Thirty ninth.

"Perfectly."

"Thank you for the time sir."

Tony slumps into the nearest chair as soon as the Ambassador hangs up. His face is in his hands, and there is a throbbing behind his templates that aches between heart beats. Tony can feel the rushing of blood in his ears. He takes a moment, two, three, four, before he straightens.

"Fry, looks like we need to put out a statement. Transcribe what I say and send it to legal for their blessing."

"Yes boss," she responds.

* * *

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Too much.

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Not enough

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

I don't want to help your friend

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Aunt Peg would shake me if she could. Her ghost is probably bitching me out right now.

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

You should have never asked me

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

You should have told me years ago.

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

I hate you for asking me

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Hateyouhateyouhateyouhateyou

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Fuck off


End file.
